


we burned down our paper house

by Ravens_World



Series: the worst of storms, and the sun that shines through [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Breaking Up & Making Up, M/M, Missing Scene, the lost decade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24953602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravens_World/pseuds/Ravens_World
Summary: "Spanning years and continents. Lives ruined, bloodshed. Epic."Scenes from a lost decade.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: the worst of storms, and the sun that shines through [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2062128
Comments: 50
Kudos: 130





	1. Not Ready To Say Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for Alex week day 6: the lost decade, missing scene.
> 
> I really wanted to post it all in one go, but I only got as far as the third one before my brain decided to shut down so I was forced to break it down into parts.
> 
> Happy reading!

"Hey,"

Michael whipped his head up so fast he banged it against the hood of the truck he was working on. 

He turned around slowly and resisted the urge to pinch himself, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming. There he was. Michael allowed himself to look at him with no reservations, to take him in. 

Alex looked different, a lot different, than he had the last time he'd seen him nine weeks ago. And not just in appearance. Sure, the buzzed hair, the lack of eyeliner, and the plain white t-shirt and loose jeans would take some getting used to but the way he was carrying himself, standing ramrod straight with his hands behind his back and his face expressionless sent a shiver down Michael's spine. And it made him ache for Alex, for everything he'd given up to follow his father's orders.

His hand spasmed and he turned away from Alex, desperately hoping that he hadn't seen the pain on his face. Michael clutched his hand and gritted his teeth, riding out the waves of pain expertly. If Alex hadn't been there, he would've drank some acetone to ease the pain, but as it were, he couldn't. When there was a tentative touch on his wrist, his eyes flew open. He looked down to avoid looking at his face and his heart ached as Alex touched him so tenderly, his hand rubbing circles into the back of his hand and his palm, carefully avoiding his mangled fingers. It helped, not by easing the pain, but just easing his soul a little. Michael couldn't even remember the last time someone had touched him, not with the intention to hurt, but to soothe, to comfort. Max and Isobel tried, they kept trying, but Michael pushed them away and intended to keep doing it until they got it through their heads that there was no helping him. 

He wanted to push Alex away now, wanted to spit out a couple of hurtful words at him that would send him running, but he couldn't. He could do nothing but try to breathe and stare at their hands. 

"Guerin?" 

His head snapped up and he found Alex looking at him, face no longer expressionless. There was concern deep in his eyes, in the set of his mouth, but there was also guilt that Michael thought never belonged on Alex's face, not when it came to his hand. 

Alex let out a frustrated breath. "Guerin, will you say something?" 

Only then did Michael realize he hadn't said a word since he'd seen Alex. 

_I missed you_ , he wanted to say. _You look different. You look good._

_I love you._

What ended up coming out of his mouth, however, was a quiet, strangled, "hi."

Alex huffed a laugh and shook his head. His hands left Michael's and he stuffed them back in his pockets, and his shoulders lifted, nearly touching his ears. That was the moment he was hit with the realization that Alex was nervous. 

"I know you won't go to the hospital, so what can I do?"

Michael frowned. "What?"

Alex huffed. "Your hand, Guerin. Is there anything I can do to make it better?"

"Got a time machine?"

Alex flinched and Michael wanted nothing more than to take it back. "I'm sorr-"

Michael shook his head. "No, don't- it wasn't your fault, Alex."

They both avoided each other's eyes as the silence stretched between them. It was stifling and uncomfortable and Michael hated it. "Why are you here, Alex?" 

For a split second, Alex looked stricken, but then a mask came over his face and all emotions were wiped off his face. "I wanted- I just wanted to check how you were doing."

"Still wasting my life," Michael said bitterly, gesturing with his open arms at the junkyard. 

Alex looked unimpressed. "I can see that."

Michael told himself that he deserved that, he'd practically invited Alex to take the shot, but it still hurt. He went back to working on the truck without another word and expected Alex to leave immediately. 

"So, this is it, huh?" Alex was angry, Michael could tell. He kept his back to him. "What do you want from me, Guerin?!"

"You're the one who came here, Alex," Michael's hand tightened on the rench he was holding and he whirled around. "What the hell do _you_ want from _me_?"

Alex took a step back, his jaw clenched tightly and Michael felt all the anger leave him in a rush. All he could feel right then was heartache; for Alex, for himself, for what they could have been if Jesse Manes hadn't found them in the shed and if Alex had said no when his father had told him to enlist. 

"What do you want from me?" He whispered, and the question was genuine this time. 

"Why didn't you say goodbye to me four months ago?"

"Because I was in _jail_ , Alex."

"What?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "Don't sound so surprised. You expected it to happen, threw it right in my face."

"I-" Alex reeled back. "I didn't- what did you even _do_?"

"I stole the hubcaps off of Kyle's car."

Alex snorted, then schooled his features into something resembling a disapproving expression. "Why would you do that?"

"It's Kyke Valenti, do I need an excuse?"

Alex shook his head and looked away. Michael felt his anger slowly begin to simmer again. "You didn't answer my question." At Alex's confused frown, he elaborated. "What do you want from me, Alex?"

He let out a shaky breath. "I just want you to be okay. I want- I wanted to see if we could- I don't know, try again?" He laughed, self-deprecating and shook his head, like he couldn't believe what he was saying.

Michael couldn't either, if he was being honest. A lump rose in his throat and tears threatened to spill over. "Do you really think this can work?" 

Alex shrugged, then his shoulders slumped. "I don't know."

It seemed like he wanted to say more, but ultimately chose not to. Michael watched him take the first step away from him, then turned away from his retreating back because he couldn't stomach the idea of watching Alex leave. 

"Guerin," Alex called out, only a few steps away. "I leave for my first assignment in two days."

Michael, the moment Alex was gone, collapsed to the ground, head in his hands. He knew what Alex wanted when he said those words, knew that he was in no uncertain terms asking him to do.

And Michael knew what his answer would be without even having to think about it.  
.  
Michael took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing thoughts as he stood in front of the door of Alex's motel room. Alex had left him a paper with the motel name and his room number on it under the windshield wiper of his truck in clear invitation, but Michael was still nervous that he might turn him away.

When he knocked the first time, there was no answer, and he exhaled, feeling a weird combination of relieved and disappointed. He turned to leave and came face to face with Alex. He had a bunch of junk food held in the circle of his arms. One bag of chips fell out when he noticed Michael at his door, but neither paid attention to it. It seemed to take Alex a second to pull himself together and Michael watched him as he deftly transferred everything he was carrying to one hand and took his key out of his hoodie pocket. He brushed past Michael and Michael didn't know if he imagined it or not, but he could've sworn Alex had taken a deep breath the minute he got close to him. 

Michael followed him in hesitantly, closing the door behind him. Alex threw the things he'd bought on the bed and Michael, rooted to the spot, watched as he took off his hoodie. His eyes strayed to the silver of skin the action revealed and Alex must have noticed if the gleam in his eyes was any indication.

Michael crossed the space between them in two quick strides and pulled Alex in by the grip he had on either side of his neck. Alex's hands snuck under his shirt and the grip he had on his hips was so tight Michael was sure it would leave bruises. He pulled away long enough to take off his shirt and watched Alex do the same before he was on him again. He danced his fingers down from Alex's shoulders to his arms, down to his muscular chest, making an appreciative sound as he was met with solid muscles rather than the soft skin he was used to. When he manged to pull his lips from Alex's, he turned his attention to his neck. He kissed him, once, and meant to do it again, meant to suck and bite and soothe the skin, but he found himself burying his face in the crook of Alex's neck, just breathing him in. When Alex lifted his arms and wrapped them around Michael, hi touch hesitantat first, but then more firm, it was all he could do not to collapse and cry like a baby in Alex's arms. He buried his nose in Michael's hair and they stood there, tangled in each other, for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes. 

Michael pulled away slowly, his eyes still closed, and kissed Alex. He missed his mark by only a little and his lips ended up pressed to the corner of Alex's mouth. Alex held his face in his hands and guided his lips to his and still, Michael kept his eyes closed. 

He opened his eyes when he felt Alex tangle their hands together and pull him to the bed, his eyes never once leaving Michael. When his legs hit the edge of the bed, he dropped down and dragged Michael down with him, and their lips met in a soft kiss that managed to stay passionate.

Michael pulled back but made sure to keep his lips only a breath away from Alex's. One of Alex's hands came up and stroked his cheek while the other tangled in his hair. From the way he was looking at him, it seemed like he was trying to memorize his face. It scared him the hell out of him.

When he pulled him down into a kiss, Michael didn't resist. When he flipped them over so that he was straddling Michael, he didn't stop him. And when he started to kiss his way down his chest, Michael forgot everything and allowed himself to enjoy however many hours they had left together.  
.  
When Michael woke up in the morning, he was alone in the bed, with a blanket that hadn't been there yesterday covering him. He sat up and told himself to breathe.

He swung his legs down to the floor and looked for his clothes, and when he found them, they were neatly folded on the bedside table with a sticky on top of his jeans along with the room keys. On the sticky note, he found two things; 

A cellphone number and,

_I think I understand now why jail seemed like a better option._


	2. Tell Me Why I'm Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Angst before the Fluff!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEADS UP!! 
> 
> The format of the story has changed, as you could probably tell from the change in summary. 
> 
> It'll still be 4 chapters, but they will be moments of how I think our boys got to where they were in the pilot. 
> 
> I'm still not sure what cannon has settled on in terms of the lost decade, but based on Michael's line "In all our years of doing this- it feels like more than just highschool, you know? So this is what I'm operating on. 
> 
> That said; Happy Reading!!

_Late 2008_

Alex had given Michael his number a little over two months ago, and Michael hadn't called him. Alex was disappointed, but he couldn't say he was all that surprised. He'd probably been setting himself up for failure when he'd left while the other boy was sleeping, but the mere idea of saying goodbye to Michael had been like a vice around his heart. 

He remembered woking up next to him, and for a second, allowing himself to fantasize about a lifetime of mornings waking up just like this, cocooned in the warmth of Michael's arms, feeling so happy he could burst with it.

But then the second was over and reality had set in.

He'd gotten up and gotten dressed, as quietly as he dared. He'd gathered Michael's clothes and folded them neatly. The next thing he'd done was to take out a blanket from the small dresser. He'd draped it cautiously over his sleeping form and then sat on the second bed in the room, taking a minute to just watch him sleep, wondering how it was possible for him to miss him already. 

Alex remembered wanting to wake him up, to kiss him one last time. He'd wanted to say goodbye because he knew how much it hurt when Michael hadn't been there two months ago. But then he'd looked at Michael again and his heart had fluttered and ached and for a whole minute, all he could think was; _I don't want to go. I want to stay here with him._ Which had confirmed what Alex already knew. 

If he'd woken Michael up, he would not have been strong enough to leave him.

So, he hadn't. Instead, he'd given him his number and had allowed himself to hope.

He'd planned on taking his leave after tech school to visit Michael, but after two months of no contract, he figured it would be better to save himself the heartbreak of being rejected and instead chose to spend his leave in Biloxi. He stayed close to Keesler for no other reason than his lack of desire to go home. Saving up the money and spending his days on the beach were just added bonuses. 

A day before his leave came to an end, his cellphone rang. Alex spent a good three seconds staring at the number, trying and failing not to get his hopes up. He pressed the button to answer with shaking fingers and put the phone to his ear. 

_"Alex?"_

His breath left him in a rush and he closed his eyes when he felt the pressure behind them. 

_"Alex?"_

"I'm here," he managed to say and could hear what was probably a sigh of relief coming from the other end. 

_"How are you?"_

Alex laughed at how awkward he sounded and realized just then that they'd never been ones for small talk. Nevertheless, he went along with it. "I'm doing okay. How about you?"

_"I'm good."_

Alex smiled. "You staying out of trouble?" 

His attempt to break the ice fell flat. He'd only meant to tease him, but from the silence on the other end, something had gotten lost in translation. "Michael, I didn't mean it like that, I was just ki-"

 _"I know,"_ he cut him off. " _I know. And, I am staying out of trouble. Well, mostly."_

Alex laughed quietly and dug his toes in the sand. "Guerin?" 

_"Yeah?"_

Alex gatheed up every bit of courage he had in him and asked the question that had been churning in his mind for the past two months. "What took you so long?"

Michael answered his question with a question. _"Why didn't you come back? I know you're on leave."_

Alex wondered how he knew that, but didn't ask. He sighed and lay back in the sand, staring at the clear sky. Part of him wanted to be stubborn and demand that he answer his question first, but Alex was tired, and he missed him so much it was like a constant ache at this point. "I didn't know if I had anything to come back for."

Silence greeted him on the other end and he he was afraid that Michael might have hung up on him. But then he spoke, _"I didn't know if you really wanted me to. I knew you'd be busy at school and- you left, Alex. You just left."_

"Guerin-"

 _"I bought an airstream off Sanders a couple days ago,"_ Michael rushed to say, changing the subject. Alex went with it, though he wanted to reassure him that there would always be space for him in Alex's life, that Alex would always _make_ space for him. 

"Yeah?"

_"Yeah. I'm fixing it up now."_

Alex could imagine the smile he heard in Michael's voice on his face if he tried hard enough and it made his heart ache. 

"That's really good, Guerin."

" _I mean, paying for it is gonna be a pain and it'll take me forever, but-"_

 _I'm proud of you,_ he almost said, but didn't. _You could so much more. You deserve so much more._

He smiled. "Maybe the next time I'm in Roswell, you can show it to me?"

When he answered with an eager, _"yeah!"_ his voice sounded considerably brighter, and Alex felt a spark of hope ignite in his chest.

_"Hey, I-uh, I gotta go okay? Isobel's gonna kill me if I spend any more of her minutes."_

Alex chuckled. "Okay."

 _"Can I call you again?"_ He inquired hesitantly.

"Yes, of course you can," he answered quickly and he sounded eager to his own ears. "We can e-mail each other, too."

_"Yeah- I- Alex?"_

"Yeah?" 

_"I miss you," he whispered._

Alex closed his eyes again, but not before a tear escaped and ran down his cheek.

He cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat "I miss you, too."

He heard what sounded suspiciously close to a sniffle before Michael let out a cough. _"I'll talk to you later?"_

"Yeah." Alex smiled. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

 _"You too."_ And with that, Michael hung up.

Alex smiled helplessly to himself and breathed in deeply. He rested his chin on his folded arms and watched the sun set, casting an orange- pink hue against the ocean water.

Hope burned bright in his chest and, try as he might, he couldn't stop it. So, he indulged himself and allowed it.

Tomorrow, he would think about all the reasons he and Michael couldn't really work.

Tomorrow, he would think about how hard it would be to maintain a relationship, if that was even something Michael wanted with him, when he had to hide it, when he had to hide who he was. 

He would deal with everything that was wrong with his life, but only tomorrow. 

For now, though, he was content to just watch the sunset and be happy that Michael wanted to give this a try, that the other man was making a life for himself despite what his father had done to him and that maybe, just maybe, Alex had a place in that life.

* * *

_Late 2009_

A little less than a year into his first deployment, Alex managed to get approval for a leave. He didn't tell anyone in Roswell, and in the years to come, he would regret that decision.

But for now, all he could feel was excitement and an eagerness to see Michael.

In the year after their phone call, Alex and Michael e-mailed each other at least once a week, but they rarely got to talk to each other over the phone, mainly due to time differences and the fact that Michael didn't actually have a phone yet. 

They never talked about anything important, though, and there was always this feeling of disconnect between them that bothered Alex.

In an unspoken agreement between them; there conversations were never about anything too heavy or serious. They didn't talk about the war, they didn't talk about Michael's hand or his money issues, even though Alex wanted to know desperately. And the only people they'd ever mentioned were Alex's squad mates and Max and Isobel. And even then, they only tended to share the light-hearted tidbits of their lives. Alex, though he wasn't proud to admit, had lied a few times, made up a cheerful or funny story or two to share with him on the days there weren't any, because the alternative would have been the truth and the truth was this:

Alex was miserable.

Almost a year in and he still lay awake at night, most nights, and thought about all the ways his life could've been different if he'd been braver, faster, stronger. On the bad days, he wished he'd never tried to kiss Michael in the shed. On the worst days, he wished he'd never offered him the shed in the first place. 

Those thoughts never lasted long, though; they were always chased away by memories of Michael's kisses, his touches, his smile. The thoughts never lasted because he could never regret Michael, no matter what.

Michael had saved him in ways Alex suspected he never realized. If it weren't for him, Alex would never have known what it felt like to be completely safe with someone. 

Before he left the Roswell airport, he hurriedly changed out of his fatigues in the airport bathrooms and stuffed them carelessly in his duffel. It didn't take him long to find a cab and thirty minutes later, he was about half a mile away from the junkyard where Michael had parked his airstream. 

He'd decided to walk the remaining distance, wanting to have a clear head, maybe get rid of the nervousness too, before he saw Michael. The night air was cool on his skin and it soothed him.

When he got to Sanders', all Alex could hear was the frantic beat of his heart. He tried to take deep breaths, he told himself it was just Michael, that he didn't have to be so nervous about seeing him. 

He walked ahead and was just a few feet away from the airstream when he heard it; a giggle, high-pitched and obviously female. It was followed by Michael's deep laugh and Alex froze, unable to do anything but breathe raggedly. When he could get his feet to move a little, he saw them. 

Michael was sitting in a lawn chair, and the girl was in another one next to him. His hand was buried in a her hair and when he moved closer and said something, too low for Alex to hear, she laughed and then they were kissing. Alex turned away and all but ran away. He ran for a long time.

The thing was, he and Michael hadn't promised each other anything. They hadn't defined what they were to each other, had skirted around the subject masterfully, so was it any wonder that Michael moved on? 

Alex couldn't really fault him for it. They were young and they weren't ready. Maybe it was better this way, for the both of them. Maybe they were never meant to last and Alex had just held on to the hope because Michael had been the one person in his life who'd given a damn about him.

Alex gathered all the heartache, the pain and the disappointment, put them in a neat little box and put it away. 

And he ran.

He ran for what felt like an eternity.

He didn't see Michael for another five years after that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I'd love to know what you thought 👀
> 
> Oh, and each chapter title comes from a song I felt fit the theme of the chapter. This one is by Timmies, though I prefer Kina's slowed version (called nobody cares)


	3. Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fluff (kinda??) before the angst...  
> Not my favorite chapter, but it's the only way I could get them from point A to B
> 
> Happy reading!!

_Early 2010_

Michael sighed and leaned back on the chair, shoulders slumped and mouth pressed in a hard line. He stared at the e-mail he'd just gotten from Alex and did his best not to scream in frustration. 

_Leave wasn't approved. Sorry._

Short and to the point, just like the last dozen or so e-mails had been in the past few months.

Alex's tone had become almost impatient with him, his e-mails shorter and shorter. It'd gotten to the point where getting three long sentences out of Alex were cause for celebration. To Michael, it seemed like he was pulling away from him, little by little, and it _hurt_. It hurt, because he didn't know what he'd done wrong and so he had no idea how to fix it. 

_Did I do something wrong?_ He deleted the question the minute he wrote it out and held his head in his hands. They didn't talk about their relationship on here- _or anywhere,_ he added bitterly in his head. 

He stared at the blank page in front of him and after a minute of silent staring at the screen, he sighed, resigned. His fingers hovered over the keyboard and he thought of all the things he wanted to tell him. That he missed how they used to talk, missed his dry, yet hilarious sense of humor. Michael missed _him_ , most of all and he wondered if he should hold onto the hope that he could ever get to have him.

_Late 2011_

Michael overheard Maria talking on the phone and nearly spilled his beer when he heard her mention Alex. He listened closely and his excitement hit the roof when she mentioned that he'd finished his first tour. 

Maybe this meant he would get out of the air force altogether. Maybe he would finally get back because he had to have gotten a good amount of days for a leave. That night, he barely managed to sleep, too many thoughts warring with each other in his head.

The next day, he waited for an email, a visit, anything. But nothing came. 

A week passed, and he didn't hear anything from Alex. 

_Hey, Alex, I just heard your tour is over? Why didn't you tell me? And when are you coming home?_

The next day, he was the first person at the library. Mrs. Jamison gave him a weird look but didn't comment as he followed her in and waited patiently until she gave him the all clear to use the computer.

He hurriedly logged into his e-mail and sighed in relief when he found a message in his inbox. 

" _I'm not coming back, Guerin. I'm sorry."_

Michael had been expecting this for months now. He'd known it was coming, had felt in his bones even, but that didn't make it hurt any less than a stab in the heart. He felt the sting of tears and sniffled pathetically. 

He didn't know how he managed it when his mind was in such a numb haze, but he logged out and turned the computer off, then left the library and drove home. 

_I'm not coming back._

What little hope for them he'd managed to hold onto for the past couple of years vanished and he tried desperately to convince himself that it was for the best.

He was, predictably, unsuccessful.  
  
 _Mid 2012_

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Michael?"

Michael snorted and then giggled, pitching forward in Max's arms. Max caught him just before he fell face-first on the ground and grunted as he pulled him up. 

"Seriously, why?"

Michael blinked drowsily at him. "What?"

Max huffed. "Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

"I didn't do anything to myself. Thing 1 and Thing 2 did."

Max was unimpressed. "You punched the guy. Unprovoked."

Michael shrugged, or, he would've, if Max's hand wasn't like an anchor around his shoulders. He resisted the urge to lean into his brother and just made a vauge noise that he let Max interpret. 

Max lowered him on the bench in the drunk tank and to Michael's surprise, he didn't leave. He crouched down in front of him and sighed. "What is it about today, huh?" 

Michael shut his eyes tightly. "Nothing."

"Michael, I know things between us aren't the best right now, but you can talk to me, okay?"

He stayed silent, bit his tongue to stop the words clawing at his throat from escaping. He heard Max sigh and waited until he heard the cell door close quietly. Then,

" _I miss him."_  
  


_Late 2013_

"I think Noah wants to have a baby."

Michael blinked at Isobel. "I think it's too early for this."

She huffed and all but forced her way through the door. She delicately lifted the edge of his crumbled blanket and slid it to the side. "What do I do?"

He shook his head and lifted his head up to look at the ceiling. "Maybe tell him you're not ready?" 

"And what if I am?" 

Her whispered confession hit him in the chest like a truck and he struggled with keeping his own feelings about this subject buried and to just focus on himself.

"What's stopping you, then?" 

She scoffed. "Maybe that I'm an _alien_? That I know nothing about my own body? That I could be bringing a child with powers freakier than ours into this world? It's too- it would be too risky, and I- I can't tell him about any of this, so I'm stuck."

He sat beside her and put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his arms. "I'm really sorry, Iz."

"Yeah," she sniffled. "Yeah, me too." She wiped her eyes and seemed to pull herself together in the snap of a finger, and Michael marveled at her strength. "Tell me about your date with Janet."

Michael pulled a face. "We were talking about you."

She gave him an unimpressed look. "And now we're talking about you. Keep up."

He rolled his eyes, but gave in. "It was fine."

She glared. He sighed.

"This is the third date I've set you up on, Michael," she reminded him. "You really didn't like any of them?"

He shrugged. "I guess they just weren't-" _Alex_ , his mind supplied, "-my type."

Isobel raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "Your type is anything that breathes. If you're going to lie to me, do better than that."

"Fine. I'm just not feeling it."

She searched his face, and to Michael's surprise, her face softened. "There's something you're not telling me."

Michael said nothing.

"You're hurting."

I'm always hurting.

Isobel rested her head on his shoulder. "It's gonna get better, Michael."

_I really fucking hope so._

_Mid 2014_

Michael stared at Max's TV in silent terror, the words ' _bombing_ ' and ' _air force base_ ' and ' _12 servicemen_ _killed and 56 injured_ ' leaving him paralyzed with fear. 

"Shit," Max cursed, eyes on the screen, then on Michael. There was a weird look on his face as he watched him, but Michael honestly couldn't muster the energy to try to find out what it meant. 

So he sat on Max's couch, he stared at the now black screen of the TV and tried not to imagine Alex in a body bag, or in a hospital bed, or bleeding out in a desert miles and miles away.

That night, for the first time in four, almost five, years, he called him. The phone rang and rang and rang, but there was no answer.

That night, Michael slept with the phone pressed to his heart, hoping it would ring. 

It never did.  
  
 _Late 2015_

Michael was three drinks in and spoiling for a fight when _he_ walked in. 

He forgot to breathe, everyone in the room but him disappeared and Michael could only watch. 

He watched as he kept his head down and avoided eye contact with anyone. 

He watched him give a polite, and obviously fake, smile to anyone who ignored his very apparent discomfort and decided to engage him in a conversation.

He watched him walk, he watched him breathe and he wanted nothing more than to go to him, drag him away and check for himself that he was whole, that he was still his Alex.

Drink now forgotten, Michael's eyes never strayed away from Alex's form, in fear that he'd actually lost it and had imagined him here.

As if drawn to him by some unknown force, Alex's eyes found his and Michael stopped breathing yet again. His whole body stiffened and he waited for the frost in the airman's eyes to melt, waited for the sharp edges of him to soften. It took a minute, but it eventually happened. 

Alex's eyes softened and his shoulders drooped a little bit. His head tilted to the side, and that was enough for Michael. He stood, rather abruptly, and slowly sauntered out of the bar, feeling his eyes follow him all the way to the door. 

He hurried to his truck, hands shaking and heart beating a mile a minute. When he got in, he put the key in the ignition and then settled both his hands on the steering wheel, squeezing it tightly.

When the bar door banged open and Alex stepped out, Michael could finally breathe. 

Alex got into a black SUV, started driving, and Michael followed without question, unable to think of anything than this:

_Alex is alive. Alex is here and he's breathing and, against all odds, he still wants me after five years._

It took him more than it should've to recognize where Alex was driving, and when his airstream came into view, Michael smiled to himself.

He waited for Alex to get out of his car before he did the same and then they just stood and stared at each other with only a few feet of space separating them.

Years lay heavy between them, yet despite that, Michael still felt lighter than he had in _years_.

He didn't know who made the first move, but only a few seconds later, Alex was in his arms and his lips were on his.

Michael wanted to suspend time. He wanted to stay in this moment, right here, for all of eternity. 

Alex pulled away and Michael tightened his hold on him, too afraid that he might have changed his mind. Alex's hands found his shoulders and Michael's found his waist. He wanted to pull him closer, to hug him, but he didn't know if that was allowed anymore. 

He wanted to ask him why he cut off all communications five years ago, wanted to tell him how much it hurt to lose touch with him so suddenly. He wanted to ask what he'd done wrong, what he could have done to fix things. Most of all, he wanted to tell him that he'd missed him with a ferocity that had scared him, but never surprised him.

Alex pulled him in before he could utter a word, though, and Michael forgot about all the things he wanted to say, forgot his own name, and got lost in Alex's touch.

Michael grabbed a hold of his hand and pulled him inside, and Alex went with it, laughing softly at his obvious eagerness. The first kiss was fast and hard and was nothing more than an eager clash of teeth. Alex winced and Michael's fingers came up to stroke his cheeks and he brushed his lips brushed against Alex's in apology.

Alex wrapped his arms around Michael's shoulder and pulled him closer. Michael went willingly. 

Their second kiss was slower, more gentle and Alex's lips were soft against his, pliant. Michael's hands drifted up from the airman's shoulders to his neck and after they pulled away for breath, he pulled him in again. This kiss was deeper, open-mouthed and filthy and he must have made his intentions clear with it because Alex, with a tight grip on his waist, led him onto the narrow bed. 

They stumbled and laughed along the way, and suddenly, it felt as if no time had passed. He was settled, in a way he hadn't been for years.

And it was because he was finally in Alex's arms again.

Michael all but threw him onto the bed, then crawled in beside him. They lay there, trading lazy kisses, for what felt like hours.

Michael wished he could stay in this moment forever. 

When Michael's hands drifted under Alex's shirt, and the kisses went back to being heated, Alex eagerly sat up and yanked his shirt off. And Michael just watched him; the ripple of toned muscles, the nimble, elegant fingers. When Alex caught him looking, he softened further and pulled him in close. Their foreheads touched and Michael saw Alex close his eyes. Try as he might, he couldn't close his, not when he still wasn't sure whether or not this was a dream. Ever so slowly, Alex leaned forward and tucked his face into Michael's neck. Michael closed his eyes. He expected Alex to place a kiss there, a bite, but instead, he just seemed to linger there, taking deep, controlled breaths. Michael let him, and pushed his face into Alex's hair. He breathed in and almost didn't want to exhale, just to keep the scent of him in his lungs for as long as possible.

Michael pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, his fingers combing Alex's hair. "Hey," he muttered softly.

Alex chuckled. "Hi."

"I missed you so much," he whispered.

Alex kept his head buried in Michael's neck but raised his hands to hug him tight. "Me too."

Michael danced his left hand from his neck to his shoulders and then down his chest. When he worked open the first button of Alex's jeans, Alex pulled away, but not before he pressed a kiss to his shoulder. 

"I'm glad you came back," Michael rasped. 

Alex answered him with a bruising kiss that left them both gasping for breath.

  
When Michael woke up, he was alone in his bed. A jolt of fear ran down his spine and he sat up in bed, looking around wildly. When he realized that what had woken him up was the click of the airstream door, he scrambled up, clumsily putting on his sweats as he all but ran out.

He caught up to Alex just before he reached his car. "What the hell, Alex?!"

Alex froze with his back to him, and Michael gripped his shoulder and forced him to turn around. 

"Let go, Guerin."

"Not until you tell me why you're leaving."

"Fucking let go, _now_." His voice was dangerously low, and Michael resisted the urge to follow his command.

"So last night meant nothing, huh? Just a quick fuck, then?"

Alex shook his head, wrist still firmly in Michael's hand. Michael had no doubt that he could have easily broken free of his hold, but was choosing not to. "Last night shouldn't have happened. It was-"

"Don't." Michael let go of him and stepped back. "Don't you dare say it was a mistake."

Alex's eyes darted all over his face, as if he was drinking him in but then the shutters came down and his eyes were nearly vacant of all emotions. He seemed to steel himself before he spoke. "Goodbye, Michael."

"You're really gonna leave me again?" He sounded broken when he'd meant to sound angry, bitter, or even accusing.

He recieved nothing but silence as Alex tried to tug his door open with obviously shaking hands.

" _Six years_ , Alex. I've spent six years missing you; wondering what I did wrong to make you decide I wasn't worth your time anymore. And I won't ask you about it. If you want to forget it, that's fine, but the least you could do is to at least fucking _try_."

"Try?"

" _Yeah_!" He exclaimed. "Give us a chance-"

" _There is no us!"_ Alex exploded. "As long as you're here and I'm not, there can never be an us, Guerin."

"Then _be here,_ " Michael pleaded, desperation clawing at his throat. This was truly it. Alex was going to get in the car and drive away and Michael would probably not see him for another five years, if not more. "Would you please just stay?"

"I can't," he murmured, and the words were final. But- he wasn't leaving. He didn't get in his car and drive away; it gave Michael hope that maybe there was still a chance he could convince him to stay.

"Why not?"

"Because I reenlisted? Because I can't see myself coming back to this hellhole permanently and I don't think you'll leave, not even for me? Because this-" he grabbed a hold of Michael's left hand and lifted it up at eye level, "-will always be there as a reminder of what being with me has done to your life."

"Being with you is the only thing I want, Alex. Being with you has always made me happy." _Your leaving was what destroyed me every time,_ he added silently.

"I ruined your life."

"My life was already ruined before you came along, darlin' ; you don't get to take credit for that."

Alex let out a sharp breath. "If you hadn't kissed me that day, if we hadn't gotten back to the shed, if my dad hadn't found us-"

Michael was stunned, because he'd never once thought Alex might have blamed himself for everything that went wrong in his life since the day Rosa died when he'd been the one bright thing in his life at that time. "I'd still be here, just without the ruined hand."

Alex looked skeptical. "You really believe that?"

"I know it, Alex."

He sniffled and nodded, jaw clenched tight. When he looked away, Michael didn't. He could practically see the wheels turning in his head and he waited him out. "It's not gonna be easy."

Michael's heart stopped for a good three seconds. "Wha-what?"

"It's not gonna be easy, being together. I leave again in a few days. We'll be seeing each other twice a year, maybe four times if we're lucky, for the next three years. Phone calls will be rare and-" Alex looked him right in the eye and Michael saw him swallow thickly. "No one in this town can know about us-"

Michael didn't let him finish. He dragged him in by the collar and fused their mouths together, kisses eager and deep.

"You're staying?"

Alex let out a shuddering breath. "I- I think so."

He sounded terrified.

Michael pulled away but kept his hands on either side of Alex's neck. 

"It's gonna be okay, Alex."

Alex nodded hesitantly. "We're gonna be okay," he whispered, as if trying to convince himself. He all but fell into Michael's arms, and when his forehead settled on Michael's, he heard him make a sound that was almost a whimper. Alex clutched the back of his shirt in two tight grips that only seemed to tighten when Michael moved to pull away. 

So he didn't.

He wrapped his arms around him and hid his smile in the airman's shoulder.

"We're gonna be great."  
.


	4. Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The grand (or not so grand) finale!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have read this story! Your Kudos and comments have never failed to make me smile and I appreciate you all so so much ❤
> 
> Things I would like to make clear about this chapter:
> 
> I struggled with writing some bits (very brief) of it because they deal with war (no extensive mention, nothing graphic, but still). I've seen war, though I was on the other side of the gun and I hope I managed to stay objective and true to the character which I love. I've leaned heavily on his scene with Kyle in 1x12.
> 
> Happy (angsty) reading!!

_**October, 2015** _

" _Hello_?"

Michael's voice was groggy when he answered and it was obvious he'd been asleep and most likely didn't check who was calling when he picked up. Alex hadn't wanted to wake him, but getting to have these calls was a rare opportunity. 

"Hey, Guerin," Alex whispered, making sure to keep his voice down. His teammates were scattered all around him in the tent, each one on a call with their own families. 

" _Alex_?" He sounded more awake now. " _How are you? Are you okay?"_

"I'm alright. How are you?"

Michael let out a soft laugh and Alex matched it. Why talking on the phone was so awkward given who they were to each other was beyond him. " _I'm okay. Been helping Isobel with her Halloween party decorations_."

Alex relaxed back into his chair, grinning. "Oh? I bet you loved that."

" _Oh yeah. I love spending two hours a day being bossed around by Isobel Evans._ "

Alex snorted. "What else have you been up to?"

" _Not much, really."_ He cleared his throat. " _How about you? How are things over there?"_

Alex didn't want to answer that question. He didn't know how. "It's nothing much."

Michael was silent on the other end, and Alex closed his eyes, wondering if he'd managed to screw up so soon into this, whatever this was. 

"Guerin-"

" _I miss you,_ " he blurted out. " _I don't know if you can't talk about it or just don't want to, but I just want to know you're okay. That's why I ask_."

Alex sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. "I don't think I'll ever talk to you about what I'm doing here," he muttered gently. It wasn't meant to hurt him, but he wanted to make sure they were on the same page. Alex had killed people, and they weren't always bad, they weren't always evil. Sometimes this job weighed so heavily on his soul that he struggled to find a reason, a way, to keep going. He'd managed it so far, but it wasn't easy. 

" _Why not_?"

"Because I don't ever want the way you look at me to change." He regretted the words instantly, but it was a relief to have them out in the open between them. It was a confession, a very small one that cost him more than it should've, but he knew Michael would understand the implication of it. 

" _Alex_ -" 

"Tell me about your day," he requested, desperate and pleading. They had so little time, and he want to spend it discussing something he'd been running from for years now.

There was silence again, but then Michael sighed, resigned. " _Okay. Well, old man Jackson's car broke again- and this makes it the third time this week, and he tried to convince me it was somehow my fault and not his crappy driving..._ "

Alex sat back, and listened to every word, committing his voice to memory.

_Just three more years._

They could make it that long.

**_December, 2015_ **

_"Shit, jesus christ!"_

Alex couldn't help but smile as Michael continued to curse, voice distant. He'd either put Alex on speaker or dropped his phone. " _Guerin?"_

_"Alex, hey!"_ He could practically hear the grin in his voice and found himself smiling, helpless against the genuine joy he could hear in the other man's words. 

"Hi," he uttered, quiet, the smile still clinging to his lips. "Merry Christmas."

" _Merry Christmas_." There was a short, comfortable silence and it struck Alex how much this, just this; listening to Michael breathe on the other end of a call, meant to him. " _I wish you were here._ "

Somehow, Michael, quiet and reverent, had the unbelievable ability to make the simplest things sound like holy confessions only meant for Alex and it never failed to fill him with joy and frustration in equal measures. Alex had so many things- beautiful, poetic things- to say about Michael, about his heart, his smile, his eyes. But he could never share them, kept them trapped in a leather bound notebook that had been his companion for the better part of seven years now. He desperately wanted to tell him how much he meant to him, but writing the words down had always been much more easier than saying them. 

" _Alex_?" 

"I'm here. I'm here. What are you doing for Christmas? You're not spending it alone, are you?"

" _No_ ," Michael answered quickly. Too quickly. Alex's heart sank. " _I'm spending it with Max, Iz and Noah. At least Max will be there, I won't have to be a third wheel."_

He was trying to sound cheerful, no doubt for his benefit, but Alex could hear how it was forced. 

"Guerin," he whispered, and he heard him take a deep breath. "Don't hide from me."

Michael let out a laugh that sounded a lot like a sob. " _I don't want you to- I'm okay, Alex, really._ "

He should have proded him more. He shouldn't have let him pretend things were okay. He should have comforted him.

Instead of doing any of that, though, Alex let him hide. "Okay," he allowed. "Tell me how you've been. I missed you." 

Michael's spirit lifted and Alex, feeling like a coward, was relieved. At least he'd managed to do some good for him.

_Please, let that be enough._

_**January, 2016** _

_Happy New Year's, Michael. I hope this year will be a good one- AM_

_Happy New Year's, Alex! I miss you. Any chance you'll be coming home soon? - MG_

_Not for at least six months. I'm sorry -AM_

_It's okay. Take care of yourself and stay safe, will you? -MG_

**_March, 2016_ **

When Michael answered the video call, he was smiling widely. 

He was also shirtless. 

Alex's eyes trailed down and it took a herculean effort to get them back up. When he managed it, though, Michael, the smug bastard, was smirking. " _Like what you see?_ "

Alex rolled his eyes and felt his face heat up. He hoped to god his blush wasn't visible. From the wiggling eyebrows and the full blown smug smile he received, his prayers went unheard. 

" _I can't believe I finally managed to convince you to video call_ ," Michael proded gently. 

His tone wasn't accusing, but Alex felt guilty anyway. He hadn't told his teammates anything; not about Michael, and certainly not about him being gay. It seemed that trusting them with his life was a lot easier than trusting them with that part of himself.

There had been so many moments where he wanted to say it, to just put it out there and see what happened. But he always backed out last minute, instinct, old doubts and fears uniting and insuring his silence.

" _Hey_ ," Michael frowned, coming closer to the screen, as if the movement would bring them any closer. " _Where'd you go_?"

Alex smiled. "I'm here. Sorry, I zoned out."

" _That's okay. Bad day?_ "

He shook his head. "A long one."

Michael hummed sympathetically. " _Wanna talk about it?"_

Alex shook his head. "Not really."

" _Alright_ ," he backed off immediately.

"You cut your hair," he found himself saying, just now noticing.

" _Isobel made me_ ," he grumpled, running a hand through the short curls. An ache, a need, to touch him, to be there beside him, threatened to overwhelm Alex and he found himself blinking back tears. " _You like it?"_

"Yeah," he breathed out.

Michael squinted, then his face softened. " _Hey, what's going on?"_

_No_ , Alex wanted to say. _I miss you. I want this to be over. I want to be there with you._

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." He tried to smile. "And- it looks good. You look good."

He was rewarded with a beaming smile. 

**_April, 2016_ **

"Happy birthday!" Alex cheered the minute Michael picked up. 

" _Hey, you_." Michael laughed softly. " _Thanks._ "

"Sorry I couldn't call you on your actual birthday."

" _That's okay."_

Alex frowned. "Hey, are you sure you're alright?"

_"I am now that we're talking. It's been a while since we talked."_

"I know. I'm sorry. Things have picked up here, I've barely slept in days."

" _Are you safe_?" He sounded scared, and Alex cursed himself for worrying him. 

"I'm in a war zone, Guerin." The words were harsher than he intended and he closed his eyes the minute the words left his mouth, knowing he'd managed to make things worse. "I'm sorry," he blurted out when the silence became too much. "I just- I hate this. I wish I could be there."

" _Yeah_ ," Michael said, voice tight with either anger or resentment. Probably both. Or maybe something else entirely that Alex couldn't grasp. " _Why won't you talk to me?"_

"I talk to you whenever I can. I told you, it's-"

" _Don't play dumb, Alex. You know what I mean._ "

"No," he argued. "I don't. I talk to you, Guerin."

" _Not about anything that matters_ ," he snapped. " _Not about what's been going on with you. You think I don't see how tired you are? You think I don't hear how miserable you are? You think I don't-"_

"I told you before, I don't want to talk about this, any of it," he told him, voice cold and devoid of emotions. 

" _Alex_ -"

"If this is how the call is going to be, I'm hanging up," he threatened and he hated it. He absolutely hated it. But he was desperate enough to fight dirty. Desperate enough to keep Michael separate from the hell he was in to use every weapon in his arsenal. 

" _Okay_ ," Michael said, and the words cut a knife through his chest. He sounded resigned and bitter and Alex hated himself for causing that. 

"Captain Manes!" 

Alex closed his eyes and cursed silently. "I've gotta go."

" _Yeah_."

"I'l talk to you later?"

He let out a wary sigh. " _Yeah_."

.....

**_May, 2016_ **

" _Can I tell Isobel about us?_ "

The smile on Alex's face dropped and he swallowed thickly. "Guerin-"

He seemed to get what Alex was trying to say and made a noise that was halfway between a sigh and a scoff. " _Forget it, that was stupid of me."_ Alex's blood ran cold, but he managed to keep his cool and ignore the bitterness that seemed to color the other man's words. There seemed to be a lot of that since their talk three weeks ago.

"Listen, I just don't want-"

" _I get it,_ " he snapped and Alex closed his mouth. "You don't want anyone to know."

"Guerin, I don't want him to know. That's why I don't want to tell anybody."

Trying to reason with a pissed off Michael proved to be a more difficult task than Alex anticipated and he was quickly running out of patience. 

" _Did you tell your teammates? About us?"_

Alex's silence was enough answer and Michael laughed. " _Of course you didn't. And it's not because of your dad, Alex. It's because you don't want anybody to know you're with me."_

"That's not why and you know it!"

" _No, I don't,"_

All his father's beatings combined hurt less than the wounded tone of Michael's voice, and it only served to solidify Alex's belief that being with him hurt Michael. And he was smart enough to know a relationship wasn't supposed to be like that. Being with someone wasn't supposed to make you miserable all the time.

"You know, I can count the people I care about in that town on one hand and I'd have fingers to spare," he told him quietly.

Michael sighed tiredly. _"I know_."

"I only ever came back for you. Just you."

Michael was silent on the other end, but the breath that rushed out of him at Alex's words was very telling. 

"I'm sorry," Alex muttered, trusting that Michael would understand why he was apologizing.

" _It's okay."_

It wasn't, not by a long shot, but Alex wasn't quite ready to face that particular truth yet. Instead, he smiled and decided to extend a peace offering of a sort.

"I think I might be able to come home next month."

" _What_?!" There was a little excitement creeping into his voice and Alex was relieved. " _Seriously_?"

"It's not set in stone, but- yeah, I think I'm coming back in a month or so."

" _Good_ ," Michael breathed out. " _That's good_."

.....

**_June, 2016_ **

Alex sat down on his bed heavily and stared at the wall, ears ringing and unable to think, unable to breathe. He was supposed to be resting, but he doubted he would be able to sleep for a long time. 

He moved to lay down when something solid dug in his hip. When his hands closed in on the sat. phone, a sticky note attached to it, he froze. He turned on the light and, with the room dimly lit, was able to read the note. 

_Today was fucking hard, cap. If you won't talk to us, then at least talk to someone._ It was written in Bradley's careful handwriting and Alex closed his eyes, lest the tears that had been building up spilt out. He didn't know about Michael, no one did, but he could tell his teammates knew he had someone. He'd never denied it, but he'd never come out and said it. He was grateful to know that he didn't have to. 

He absentmindedly played with the phone, and allowed himself only a few seconds to think of all the reasons he shouldn't talk to Michael after the day he'd had.

In the end, his need to hear Michael's voice won over any logical reasoning and he found himself dialing the number he'd memorized by heart. It rang five times before he answered.

" _Alex_?" Michael shouted over the sound of music, voice light and easy in a way it hadn't been in a while. Alex's heart sank when he realized that he hadn't heard Michael sound happy in months.

And that was on him.

He let out a shaky breath and answered. "Hey. This is a bad time, I'll-"

" _No! No, hang on_." Seconds later, there was the sound of a heavy thud, a door closed, and Michael's voice was back, much clearer. " _Hey, I'm glad you called. I missed you."_

"Yeah, you too," Alex managed to say, a lump in his throat. 

" _Hey, are you okay_?"

"No," he admitted, "I'm not." 

Michael was probably shocked into silence, having not expected an honest answer. " _What happened_?"

"I'm just tired." He took in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. "Will you talk to me?"

" _About what_?" Michael asked gently.

"Anything." _I just want to hear your voice instead of their screams,_ he wanted to say but didn't.

So, he listened to Michael talk about his day, about Isobel and Max and a car repair job he'd done that had impressed Sanders enough that he'd actually said the words 'good job, kid' out loud. And, miraculously, little by little, he felt a sort of peace wash over him, and the pain of what had happened today lessened to a somewhat bearable level. It was a heavy burden that would be there forever, but talking to Michael made that burden easier to carry.

"Thank you," he interrupted him, voice quiet.

Michael laughed softly. " _What for_?"

For being the one good thing in my life right now. For keeping me sane. "For being you," he smiled.

Michael snickered. " _Well, that's the first time anybody ever thanked me for_ that."

Alex found himself laughing with him, and the knot in his chest loosened.

**_July, 2016_ **

Alex was beyond exhausted, beyond angry and desperate for this; the war and the killing and the endless cycle of nearly identical days, to be over. He'd been hopeful a week earlier, thinking he might be able to go see Michael, but his leave had been rejected, on account of his team being needed here. Michael hadn't been happy about it and though this had happened before, this time had felt different. They'd had a fight about it, and Alex hadn't heard from him in about a week. 

Truth be told, Alex dreaded their next conversation so much that it was almost a relief when he called and Michael didn't pick up. Alex felt that there were cracks forming in this thing between them, probably due to how much they both left unsaid and the long distance between them probably wasn't helping. Sometimes, he felt like he was holding Michael back, making him miserable instead of happy, and wondered if maybe he needed to let him go. He could never say it outright, too scared of losing him, but he'd contemplated it.

When he called him, Michael answered on the second ring. 

" _Alex_!"

And he was well on his way to getting well and truly drunk from the sound of it. 

"Are you drunk? Guerin, Where are you?" 

" _I'm not drunk, Alex_ ," he told him moodily. And Alex realized that no, Michael wasn't drunk, he just sounded happy. How messed up was it that he hadn't recognize his happiness and mistook it for drunkenness? " _Noah threw a surprise party for Iz. It's their anniversary_ ," he explained, words wistful, bitterness forgotten.

Alex bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. That was never going to be them, was it?

"What the hell, Alex?" Though his words were whispered, there was a cold fury in them that made his heart sink. "Are you serious?"

He said nothing. He hadn't meant to say the words out loud, but a part of him was relieved he had. This conversation was a long time coming.

Michael wanted a family. He'd never said it, but Alex could tell. He wanted to be with him, wanted everything with him, and though the feeling was mutual, Alex didn't see it happening for a long time, if ever. Not when Alex felt paralyzed any time he tried to tell his teammates about his relationship. Not when the mere idea of anybody finding out and word reaching his father sent him into a spiral that, more often than not, ended with him having a panic attack.

"It's true," he whispered, digging the knife deeper. "You were right, Guerin. I didn't tell anyone about us. I don't think I'll be able to any time soon."

" _Alex_ -"

"Stop," he snapped, heart thumping wildly. A part of him recognized that he should cut the conversation short and talk to Michael later. When he wasn't feeling so raw; when he could look down at his hands and not see blood on them; when he could close his eyes and see something other than fire and hear something other than the screams of a hundred innocent people. "I'm not coming home, Guerin. Not for a while. And- this isn't working."

Michael cursed viciously, and the sound of something breaking reached his ears, but Alex was calm in a way that scared him. He knew what that calm meant; knew, deep down in his bones, that this was going to be the last conversation they were going to have for a long time. 

If he was capable of feeling anything at the moment, Alex thought he might have felt sorrow. 

" _Alex, please talk to me. You don't- we're fine. We- what do you mean it's not working?_ "

He hated how desperate Michael sounded, how scared. 

_I did that. I did that to him._

"We should stop this," he informed him, and even to him the words sounded almost robotic. 

" _Alex, what-?_ " 

Michael sounded confused and Alex didn't blame him.

"You can't tell me you haven't thought about it, Michael. We're- this thing between us, it wasn't going to last. It's not- all we do lately is fight, aren't you tired of it?"

He wasn't trying to be cruel, but he sure sounded like it. 

" _Of course I'm fucking tired of fighting with you, Alex! And it's not working because you won't talk to me. I've tried to get you to so many times but you're like a freaking brick wall_ ," he hissed, then laughed hysterically. " _I can tell you're off. I can tell you're hiding something. I can tell that you're in pain right now, but if I asked, would you tell me what happened?"_

Alex _was_ in pain, he was in so much pain that even his damn teeth ached, and he was _tired_. Maybe that was why he did the thing he'd vowed to never do and found himself telling Michael everything he'd been trying to keep hidden.

"I kill people for a living," Alex told him, cold and furious. Later, he was sure he was going to regret this, but for now, that didn't matter. "I've killed so many people; fathers, brothers, sons, husbands, d-" he cut himself off and breathed heavily, chest tightening. "I've got so much blood on my hands, and it feels like no matter what I do, I'm never going to be able to wipe it off."

There was a sharp intake of breath and a chocked sound that Alex couldn't identify over the sound of his pounding heart. 

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" He demanded. 

" _Alex_ ," all the fight had drained out of him, and the only thing left in his voice was sorrow. 

Alex hated it.

"Tell me," he demanded, "is that what you wanted me to tell you? That I'm-"

" _Stop_ ," Michael begged. " _Just stop_."

He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Guerin."

Michael said nothing, probably because he'd understood that Alex was apologizing for more than this conversation. Then he let out a sharp breath. " _So, this is it, huh?"_

"I'm sorry."

" ** _Stop saying that!_** "

He did. He didn't say anything at all; just listened to Michael breathe heavily and wondered how he could breathe at all when Alex felt like he was drowning.

"Is this really it?" He sounded small, and scared. 

Alex remained silent. He closed his eyes and listened to him breathe. 

" _Fuck you, Alex."_ Michael raised his voice. He wasn't screaming, but it was close enough. " _Did you ever even want this? From the minute you left, you've been- You won't tell me anything. We spent whatever time we had talking about stupid shit and you never let me in. You won't tell anyone about us because you're scared, but have you wondered how I feel, Alex?"_ He didn't have an answer for him and Michael didn't wait for one. " _I'm terrified every day of something happening to you, every single day, and you know what the bitch of it is? If something does happen, half the town will know before I do and that's because no one would even think to tell me. And there's no one I can talk to about this because you don't want anybody to know. I sucked it up. For seven months, for even longer than that, I sucked it up and I didn't push, though god knows I wanted to. And now, just like that, you decide to end it?_ " When Alex didn't answer, Michael snapped. " ** _Fucking say something, Alex_**."

"It's over. I'm sorry."

" _Fuck you, Alex."_ In perfect contrast to the words, he sounded heartbroken, defeated. 

For a brief instance, he wanted to take it all back and beg Michael to forget every word he'd said. But then the dile tone reached his ears and admist the heartbreak and shock, there was a sense of relief. It was short-lived, however, and soon, he found himself hunched forward, his hands tangled in his hair and his world was falling apart around him. He decided to give himself one minute. One minute to fall apart, to rage and cry and regret all the choices he'd made that had landed him here. Then, he did what he did best and gathered all those emotions, put them into neat little boxes and buried them in the deepest corners of his mind. 

Michael had been a lifeline of a sort in these past few months, he'd helped more than he knew, and now that he was without that lifeline, Alex wondered how long it would take for him to stop drowning.

_**Two Days Later** _

"Captain?! Hey, Cap, come on stay with me. Come on, come on, open your eyes."

Alex struggled to do what he was asked, and when he did open his eyes, it was to a dusty, rapidly darkening sky. Bradley, his second in command, came into view, and his relief was so palpable that Alex could almost feel it. The other man let out a breath, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and was about to ask what happened when the pain registered. It wasn't even gradual. The pain wasn't there one minute, and the next one, he wanted to chop his own leg off because of the pain radiating from it. 

"-cap?! Cap, come on, breathe. Shit! Hey, Sammy, you okay?!" Bradley's voice was now further away now, and Alex struggled to turn his head to the side, just to see what was going on. He couldn't see very clearly, but he could hear the newest member of their squad, just 18 years old, crying. Alex forced himself to get up, didn't look anywhere near his leg and dragged himself to where his two teammates were. 

"Sammy?"

"Cap," the boy gasped, and Alex held his hand when he lifted it up in his direction. He was dizzy and in pain, but he pushed it away in favor of focusing on his young charge. He shared a desperate look with Bradley, who merely shook his head. 

"It's gonna be okay, kid. Bradley," he switched gears quickly. "Sitrep."

"Jones and Diaz are a little banged up but they're alright. They're keeping watch. Doesn't seem like there are any hostiles in the area, thank god."

Alex, for the first time since he opened his eyes, looked down at his leg. To his surprise, it didn't look as bad as he'd thought it would be. There was a piece of metal sticking to it, just below the knee, but otherwise, it looked fine. A belt, probably Bradley's, was just above his knee and acting like a makeshift tourniquet. He breathed a sigh of relief before Bradley's words fully registered. Jones and Diaz. No one else. 

"Dalton?"

He looked away, shoulders slumped, and Alex had his answer. "Fuck."

Sam whimpered quietly, and Alex pushed down his grief, his anger, and focused on the young man. "Sammy, how are you holding up?"

He let out a shaky laugh. "I'm just fine, cap, how 'bout you?"

Alex grinned and took a hold of his hand, squeezing lightly. The sound of gunshots suddenly erupted and Alex knew their good luck had run out. Their helo had been shot down smack dab into enemy territory and they had only three men who were mobile. Alex took a breath and pushed down the panic that rose up at the fact that they were trapped here like sitting ducks and took a breath. He gestured for Bradley with his head, and the older man stiffened. He knew better than to disobey an order, but Alex could see he was hesitant to leave them. 

"Go, the others need you. Sammy and I are good here. Right, Sam?" He didn't receive an answer. "Airman Miller," he barked, harsh. Predictably, the airman's eyes snapped open and Alex inwardly sighed in relief. "No sleeping on the job, kid."

"Yes, sir."

"Bradley, _go_!"

He watched his second struggle for a second, then he took off running. Alex turned his attention back to the young airman, who seemed to be staring at the rapidly darkening sky, in a daze. "Hey, Sam?" He called his name several times before he had his attention. "How did your mom's interview go? Did she get the job?" 

Sam nodded. "Yeah," he said shakily. "You remembered," he smiled.

Alex nodded and a tear slid down his cheek as he watched the young man rapidly fade away. "Kid? Come on, you've got to stay awake, do you hear me?"

Sam nodded, but his eyes kept sliding shut. He tried to keep him talking, tried to keep his composure, but it only took him ten minutes to fail at both. 

....

Alex had watched people die, most of them by his own hand and as time went by, he'd resigned himself to the fact that it was never going to get easier, no matter how many times it happened.

Watching Sammy take his last breath, though expected, hurt like hell. It suffocated him. He looked down at his hands, bloody and shaking, and flinched, looking away. The sound of gunshots steadily increased and he heard a scream, a pained scream, and his heart squeezed in despair. He looked down at his ruined leg and cursed. He wouldn't be able to walk on it, not with the tourniquet on. His options were to stay here, with his teammate's corpse in his lap and alone, or he could do something that might get him killed but would actually help save what was left of his team. 

The choice was easy to make. 

With shaking hands, he loosened the tourniquet slowly, ignored the blood that immediately started gushing out and stood up, using their fallen chopper as a makeshift crutch. Once he was up, he tested the leg and found himself pitching forward almost immediately when it collapsed underneath him. He was quick to find purchase and grabbed the metal tightly. He leaned down slowly, grabbing a hold of his rifle and hesitated briefly before he grabbed Sammy's, too, along with extra clips. 

If he was going to die, and it was starting to look more likely by the second, he was at least going to die fighting.

Alex, by some miracle, didn't die. 

But as Bradley, the only member of his team who had come out alive with him, pushed down on the hole in his gut, Alex wished he had died. 

"Cap, you gotta stay with me, okay? I can't watch you die, too." The man looked two seconds away from a breakdown, so Alex did his best to keep his eyes open.

"I'm alright," he slurred, words so quiet the other man must not have heard them. 

"That's good. Please, just hold on" he pleaded, breath catching. "Help's coming, alright? Just hold on. Talk to me!"

Alex tried to shrug, but couldn't quite manage it. "About what?"

Bradley hesitated, then seemed to steel himself. "Got anyone back home?"

His first instinct was to say a quick and dry no and be done with it, but another part, the helplessly in love, seventeen year old in him wanted to be brave and honest for the first time in his life. He'd never told anyone about Michael, and it was ironic that he was going to when things between them had ended. Regret sat heavy in his gut and he wondered, not for the first time, if ending things with Michael had been a mistake. It probably had been, but Alex had truly believed it was the best thing he could do for Michael; to allow him to live his life without the worry about Alex and free of the pressure of keeping a relationship alive when all they had was emails and phone calls. 

"Cap?"

Alex missed Michael, missed talking to him, missed being in his arms, with an intensity that rattled him to the core. 

"Michael," he found himself whispering. He waited for the fear to kick in, waited for the shame, but none came. All he could feel was a hint of relief as he finally spoke his truth to someone.

"Michael," Bradley repeated, no judgment in his voice. The smile on his lips was a sweet one and Alex's lips turned up, too, automatically. "You love him?"

That was a stupid question. "Been in love with him for eight years now," he muttered. It felt wrong to admit it for the first time to someone who wasn't Michael, but there was a good chance that he was never going to see him again and he needed someone to know.

Bradley shook his head. "So all it took to get you to talk about him was you getting shot. Good to know," Bradley teased, sniffling. 

Alex wanted to laugh, like his second wanted him to, but one thought kept playing on a loop inside his head. 

_I'm never going to see him again._

The idea terrified him more than death itself. He was never going to see Michael again. He was never going to see him smile; never going to wake up beside him; never going to kiss him, again. 

"Yes, you will," Bradley snapped, shaking him slightly, gently.

Alex hadn't realized he'd said it out loud. "I'm not," he sniffled, somehow still able to keep the tears at bay. "I ended things. God, I never even told him."

"I bet he knows," the other man said with conviction. "Sometimes I'd catch bits of your conversations, not that I eavesdropped or anything!-" He hurried to assure him, then cleared his throat and continued, "anyway, you'd get this look in your eyes and- we all knew you had someone special, just couldn't figure out why you didn't trust us with it."

"You knew?" Alex whispered, chocked up. 

"We all suspected. But you're pretty damn good at hiding, so we could never be sure." There was an unmistakable hitch in the other man's breath when he said 'we'and Alex ached at the loss they'd both just suffered. He hated that he was about to add to it by dying. "Tell me about him."

For a second, he drew a blank. How could he ever find the words to describe Michael Guerin? "He's smart," Alex started, voice hoarse. "Crazy smart. He's kind, though he hides it really well. He's-" to his horror, he felt tears start leaking out of his eyes as a pressure built up in his chest. He closed his eyes and did his best to regain his composure. "He's never going to know how much I-" Alex grit his teeth. "He won't even know I'm gone," he whispered, sorrow painting every word.

"Cap," Bradley trailed off, and he sounded pained. "You won't die. And you'll get to tell him, okay? But you gotta stay with me."

Desperation clawing at his throat, Alex struggled to lift his hand and dropped it onto Bradley's hands over his wound. "You'll tell him, right? When you make it out of this hellhole? Promise me you'll-"

" _Enough_ ," he snapped, pressing down harder on the bleeding wound. "You're not dying, do you hear me? I'm not gonna let you."

Tears leaked out of his eyes and a sob tore right through his chest, making the pain became almost unbearable. "Please. _Please_ ," he begged him, fingers clutching at his uniform.

"Okay," his second whispered, resigned. "Okay, I'll tell him."

Peace washed over him, and his eyes closed on their own accord. "Thank you."

............

Alex didn't die. Though when he woke up and the first thing he saw was his father's cold blue eyes, he wished he had. His father leaned close and Alex flinched away involuntarily. He clenched his jaw when he only pressed the call button by his bedside. He narrowed his eyes at the older man when he realized he'd moved closer like that purposely, to elicit that reaction from Alex. 

There was an ache, deep in his heart, that only increased when he saw there was no one in the room but a person who hated him. 

"Took you long enough," his father commented, sitting back in a chair. 

Alex slowly lifted his hand to his face, clumsily lifted the mask off, and pinned his father with a cold stare. "Why are you here?" 

He shrugged. "I was called."

So he was here to save face. Alex laughed and shook his head. "So, what's the damage?"

He was sure his father would delight in telling him everything that was wrong him. 

He did not disappoint. 

"Far more than they could fix here." It would have been funny if Jesse didn't mean every word. "Bullet was a through and through, you just lost a lot of blood."

"Leg?"

For the first time in a long time, his father's eyes softened and Alex found a flicker of pity in his expression that was gone in an instant. "I'll let the doctor explain that."

Alex struggled to get up, and Jesse's hand on his bicep stopped him. The heart monitor showed just how much the touch rattled him and Alex nearly cursed out loud but he bit his tongue. "Don't."

"Captain Manes?" They both turned to see a doctor in his late forties smiling at them. He entered the room quietly. "I'm doctor Spencer Williams. How are you fee-"

"What happened to my leg?" He demanded.

The doctor hesitated only a second, but Alex had had enough. He rolled to the side and ran his hand along the underside of the bed, looking for the controls for the bed. He ignored the pain in his side and the doctor's attempts at restraining him. 

His father grabbed a hold of his chin and turned him towards him, and Alex stilled. There was a glint in Jesse's eyes that sent a spike of fear down his spine. 

He pushed the fear down. "Tell me," he demanded, voice hard as steel.

"Your leg was amputated."

It was a punch to the gut. It was every blow his father had ever dealt him all at once. Monitors beeped and Alex could feel nothing but panic as he struggled to breathe. He closed his eyes, just to get away from that maddeningly emotionless stare, and felt his heart skip a beat or two. 

There was a prick of a needle, and then blissful relief.

And then there was only darkness. 

.....

**_One Month Later_ **

PT was a special sort of torture, and Alex was just about ready to give up just to escape the pain and the humiliation that he was subjected to three times a week. 

He hated the wheelchair, but on days like today, when the pain was so unbearable he could barely string a sentence together, let alone walk on his crutches, he was grateful for it. 

He drew the line at letting the nurse take him up to his room, though.

Though he'd visited him a couple times in the past month, Alex was still surprised when he went into his room and found his brother sitting in the chair next to his bed. "Greg?"

Greg stood up immediately. "Hey," he smiled wobbily, hands reaching out for Alex. His eyes flickered down, like they always did, to his leg and the pained look in his eyes was nearly Alex's undoing. "Hey, it's good to see you, little brother."

Alex smiled back, but it only lasted a second. "You too."

He wheeled himself in and stopped beside the bed. The bed was a bit higher than he anticipated when he planted his hands on it to lever himself up, and he hesitated briefly. 

"Hey, can I-" his brother's hands were outstretched towards him and Alex flinched away, resisting the urge to glare at his brother. 

" _No_."

"Okay," he said, hands raised. 

Alex gave up on trying to transfer to the bed and instead stayed stubbornly in the wheelchair, jaw clenched and more pissed off than he'd ever been. 

They sat in silence for far longer than Alex anticipated, and though he was tempted to break the silence, he didn't. He expected Greg to get up in leave after the thirty minute mark, but to Alex's surprise, and his frustration, his brother just sat quietly and messed around with his phone. 

Sitting in the wheelchair was doing a number on his back and his gunshot wound and his legs. He fidgeted for the umpteenth time and heard Gregory huff. "Could you stop being a stubborn asshole for a few minutes and let me help you up? Or at least let me call the nurse to do it?"

Alex wanted to refuse, but he was tired, and in pain. He nodded tightly, and his brother jumped up from his seat. "How do you want to do this?" 

He directed his brother to stand at his right side and allowed him to be his crutch, so to speak, and only then did he remember that he did actually have a pair of crutches in the room. He leaned his weight against his brother, who moved the chair out of the way once he was sure Alex was somewhat stable. Alex sat in the bed heavily and, in a move that surprised both of them, kept his grip on the back of Gregory's shirt tight and leaned his head on his brother's chest. Greg wasted no time in wrapping him in his arms and only when his brother started to rock them from side to side, something he'd done countless times to soothe a much younger Alex, did he realize that he was crying. Greg's hand ran soothingly through his hair and stilled when Alex pulled away. 

He scooted his chair closer to the bed and put his hand near Alex's, but didn't touch him. Alex appreciated it.

"How are you, Alex?"

"Oh, I'm just peachy, Gregory."

Greg rolled his eyes. "I'm serious."

Alex just shook his head. 

His brother sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Why are you here, Greg?"

"Because someone needs to be," he snapped and looked like he immediately regretted it. "Alex-"

"So, you drew the short straw?" Greg grimaced. "Ah, right, for that to happen, there had to be someone actually willing to see me," Alex laughed bitterly. "You can go now," he pointed at the door, avoiding his brother's eyes. 

His shoulders slumped, but he did as he was told. He stopped at the doorway and turned to look at him. Alex swallowed thickly at the clear sadness on his brother's face, in his eyes.

"You've gotta stop pushing people away at some point, man. You've gotta let people in," he pleaded.

 _You never let me in._ Michael's voice echoed in his head and he grimaced at the reminder.

"You can't go through this alone. No matter how much you fight it, no matter how strong you are, you'll need somebody in your corner because we're- we're not meant to be alone, Alex."

_People need people._

The words haunted him for the rest of the night. He doesn't sleep.

.....

**_February, 2018_ **

Alex's last PT session was on a Tuesday and though it had helped him a lot, he was glad he didn't have to come to this place again. Whatever exercises he had to do from now on, he could do in the comfort of his own home and it was such a relief. He entered the coffee shop around the corner and ordered his coffee. He sat at the farthest table in the back and sipped at his coffee slowly, savoring the bitter taste. 

"This seat taken?"

His eyes shot open and he found himself looking up at his CO. he made a move to stand up, but the older man waved him off with a small smile. "At ease, Captain, this isn't an official visit."

Alex gestured at the empty seat opposite him. "Please, sir, take a seat."

He did. "It's good to see you, Captain Manes. Been a while."

Alex smiled genuinely. "Yeah, it has. And it's good to see you, too."

"How have you been?"

Alex's hands clasped under the table. "I've been alright." He took a sip of his coffee and when the other man made no effort to speak again, he cleared his throat. He resisted the urge to blurt out his question about why the man was here and waited him out. 

The coffee he ordered arrived and Alex watched him take a sip before he put the cup down put both hands on the table. "You know you're going to be reassigned to a new base now that you're back on duty," he stated and at Alex's nod, he continued, "due to both your rank and your circumstances, you're in the unique position to choose which base you want to be relocated to."

A paper appeared in his hand seemingly out of thin air, and he slid it towards him. "These are the bases where your skills will be needed the most. Choose wisely, kid," that last piece of advise was accompanied by a gentle squeeze to his shoulder and Alex wondered what he meant by it. "I'll expect an answer in two days. Be in my office at 0700 sharp."

Alex nodded. "Yes, sir."

MAXWELL AFB

DAVIS-MONTHAN AFB

VANDERBERG AFB

WALKER AFB and beside it, in neat handwriting, was 'Roswell'.

The breath was knocked of his chest as he understood the meaning of the Major's words.

His hands shook as he stared at the words. He to make a choice, but it felt like the minute he'd read those words, his choice was already made.

_We're not meant to be alone._

_People need people._

_You never let me in._

Two days later, after he had signed the paperwork and was on his way back to Roswell, a spark of hope was ignited in his chest.

Maybe this was his chance to finally make things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and I hope, from the bottom of my heart, that you enjoyed this!

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought of this?? I'm really really nervous about this one cause it's my first time writing younger Malex and I don't know if I was able to keep them in character, so your opinions would be much appreciated ❤  
> Thank you for reading 🌸


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